Red Sash
by Gothika Faerie
Summary: Frollo had Esmeralda's scarf. What did she have? A little oneshot that happened after the movie. Not your average Frollo/Esme fic.


Title: Red Sash

Summary: Frollo had Esmeralda's scarf. What did she have?

Genre: Romance/General

Rated: T

A/N: Just a little vignette I had to get out of my head. And yes, this is my 20th story!

Esmeralda pursed her lips. It certainly looked like it. It felt like it even, a silky velvety texture. But it couldn't possibly _be_ it, could it? Djali had discovered somewhere in a rather shady area in the Court of Miracles. The goat then proceeded to send the scarlet piece of cloth to Esmeralda for closer inspection. Esmeralda had been surprised by the find. It was rare to find luxurious cloth like this. Especially luxurious cloth that might just very well belongs to _him_.

The gypsy girl proceeded to wind the sash around her hands. It possessed a rather sensual slithery nature to it. She wove it through her dainty fingers, relishing its softness. She wondered whether if _he_ knew it was here. Assuming this red sash did belong to _his_ triangular chaperon. Esmeralda mused on how it got there. Clopin must have been _really_ sneaky to pinch it off of _him_. She smiled. The sash was a real thing of beauty. It was a vermillion snake, writhing through her slender fingers. Esmeralda must admit; _he_, at the very least, had a sense of style.

She giggled as she remembered how at times she would see this sash swishing behind _him_ as _he_ walked. She marveled at its grace as it flailed in the wind. It somehow completed _him_. Not that she would ever admit it to _his_ face. She brought the sash up to her gorgeous green eyes. The redness of it reflected the sunlight and the iridescent effect nearly blinded her. It possessed a lovely sheen; an added plus to its satiny texture. Esmeralda sighed happily.

She wandered if the other gypsy women would be jealous if she began parading around with this. Esmeralda knew this would make a perfect hair scarf. She could gather her voluminous, spicy raven hair and cinch it up with this red glory. Since after all, red was her favorite color. It reminded her of phoenixes….

Soon her thoughts wandered to something else. Where _was_ her original, patterned hair scarf? Recollecting, she remembered the Festival of Fools a year ago. She was prancing and twirling in front of an enthusiastic, cheering crowd. Everybody was captivated and enthralled by her gyrations and graceful movements. Everybody except one gloomy Gus.

"_Look at that disgusting display." _She remembered that displeased remark as if it were yesterday. Feeling a desire to tease the commenter, she leapt towards _him_ and settled herself on _his_ lap. _His _face held a look of shocked fear. She bent tenderly enough to kiss him gently on the nose before teasingly slamming _his_ large chaperon over his dark eyes. Before doing so, she remembered looping her sheer, star-patterned scarf around his spindly neck and pulling _him_ in. She had left her scarf to _him_. And now it seemed _his_ red hat sash was all that's left of _him_. Esmeralda felt a faint twinge of pain in her heart. She was flabbergasted! Did she miss _him_? No, she couldn't possibly.

It had been a little over a year since _his_ death. The gypsies, predictably, were celebrating it without a qualm in the world. Clopin, especially, seemed the most joyful. Now there was no one to stop him from hosting puppet shows in the streets or to call him a 'gypsy vermin'. Clopin and _him_ had been bitter enemies due to _his_ unwavering prejudice and abhorrence of gypsies. _H_e had tortured them, hung them when they were innocent and generally looked at them like they were the filthiest scum in the universe. Yet, Esmeralda couldn't help feeling there was something missing.

She couldn't imagine the next Festival of Fools where _he_ wasn't there, surveying the entire scene. At the next festival, there would be no one perched on _his_ emerald throne, mentally insulting all the performers on their stupidity. Nobody for Clopin to mock and freak out. Nobody to ride through the alleys and examine the behavior of the gypsies. Nobody to be afraid of anymore. Strangely, Esmeralda now felt a huge foreboding darkness looming over her. Maybe she did miss _him_. _He_ after all had been a significant part of her life. And she will never see _him _ever again.

She glanced at the red sash again. It was heaven to have it wound around her slender, tanned fingers. It was incredibly satiny. It was also her only memory of _him_. She would always remember how it blew in the breeze as _he_ rode on _his_ proud, frightening steed. How it accessorized _his_ chaperon perfectly.

She brought it to her face and inhaled. It smelled of good port wine and a hint of smoke. It was very appropriate for a man like _him_. The sash somehow made her feel peaceful. As if she found a piece of him. He was a jigsaw puzzle to her at times. She often secretly sympathized _him_. A righteous man, corrupted by his power and pride. She knew not choosing _him_ was a right decision. But if she had chose _him_, maybe she could make _him _her kind better and eventually _he_ could accept them for whom they are.

She recalled the blazing fires. All those fires _he_ set because _he _had loved her. _He_ had loved her so much; it practically threw _him_ to the brink of insanity. _He_ wounded innocent lives, plundered and pillaged all for her. _He_ even wanted to kill _his _own adopted son due to _his _delusional love for her. _He_ even died because of _his _love for her. _He_ even wanted her dead if she didn't love _him_ for _he'd _rather her burnt to a crispy corpse than be wed to another man. The force of _his_ love had been incredible! If not…. romantic.

Yes, she could have gone through all of last year without the riots, the burning, the bloody fights, the languishing in a dungeon and the death of so many but the fact that all this had been spawned of _his_ fiery, passionate love for her was amazing. _He_ sacrificed so much for her. Granted, what he sacrificed cost her friends, innocents and even _his_ own life. Yet…she couldn't help feeling just a little bit flattered after thinking back.

She looked back at the red sash she had woven around her fingers. She unwove it and gathered her titian ebony hair. With a few maneuvers, she finally managed to knot the red sash around her hair and yanked it tight to secure it. She admired herself with a mirror she pulled from her bodice. She smiled

Red was always her favorite color.

_Rest in Peace_, she thought, as she tried to picture _him_ still standing at the cathedral and wondering what became of his red sash.

_I shall miss him after all. _

A/N: If you think its rubbish, I don't care. I typed this at 12 midnight, ok!


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